


Eager

by pippen2112



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Captive Prince Fusion, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Roy, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Rimming, Roy/Ed Week 2018, Sexual Slavery, Top Ed, alternative universe, sex and feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 18:43:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15757527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippen2112/pseuds/pippen2112
Summary: While visiting Xing, the Crowned Prince of Xerxes is given his choice of bed slaves to service him during his visit.  He makes an unexpected choice.Written for Roy/Ed Week Day 3: AU





	Eager

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by the world and culture of Captive Prince. Although both Roy and Ed clearly want and enjoy their sex, there are consent issues due to their disparate ranks. As such, I've tagged this work Dubious Consent. If I missed any tags, please let me know.

“Him.”

At the accented Xingese, Roy glances up from where he has prostrated himself, just enough to see a pair of feet in fine Xerxian sandals standing before him. He ducks back into position, his back straining from forcing himself into a younger slave’s position. But every slave prostrates themselves before royalty, even dishonored slaves like him.

Fu, the slave master, sputters. “H-him, Your Highness?”

“Him,” the Prince repeats sternly. “Why? Is there something wrong with him?”

Roy scowls at the stone floor inches from his face. Technically speaking, no, there’s nothing wrong with him, but he’s old, older than any of the other bed slaves the Xingese Emperor has in the royal palace, creeping steadily past his prime. And even though he never had a true first night, as one of the trainers of the Emperor’s harem, he’s no virgin. Just a bed slave who forgot his place once and has been paying for it ever since.

“No, Your Highness,” Fu says, “but—”

“—Then I’ll take him. Get up.”

Roy sits back onto his heels and gets the first glimpse of Edward, the Crowned Prince of Xerxes. He’s clad in fine cotton garb, draped and knotted around his figure. His coloring is typical of his people: braided golden hair and tan skin and dark, deep-set eyes. His nose and cheekbones are refined, if mildly sunburned, and his brow is prematurely creased with focus lines. He’s lithe, his physique more inclined to library work than a battle field, but even Roy has heard tales of the Prince’s exploits. But Roy glances from the Prince to Fu standing a few paces behind him and realizes, _Oh gods, the Prince is shorter than I am._

The Prince cocks his head to the side, studying Roy. “All the way up. Didn’t think I’d need to spell that out for you.”

Fisting his hands at his sides to stop himself from reacting to the condescending behavior, Roy rises fully. On his feet, the Prince is even shorter than he expected, but he carries himself with his shoulders thrown back and his chin thrust forward, hauty as he eyes Roy in his thin slave silks. “You understand Xerxian?” he asks in Xingese.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Roy responds in Xerxian, bowing his head. “The Emperor requires everyone in his household to learn the languages of our allies.”

“Oh,” the Prince replies before slipping into his native tongue. “Good.” He steps forward traces a warm finger across Roy’s collar bones, trailing down to the neckline of his silks. 

Roy holds his breath, willing himself to remain still as his skin turns to gooseflesh. It’s been over a decade since he completed his training, but he’s modeled behavior for trainee bed slaves for years now. He knows the qualities that make a good bed slave by heart: patience, attentiveness, submissiveness. Still, he feels like an impostor, being selected when the Prince of Xerxes has his pick of the Emperor’s untouched bed slaves. But if the Prince chose him as an attendant for his stay in Xing, Roy will make the most of it. _Beats getting fucked in front of a room full of virgins._

As the Prince departs for his quarters, he calls over his shoulder, “Just be sure to give him a good scrubbing before the banquet tonight. Smells like he pissed himself.”

He glowers.

If only the Prince of Xerxes wasn’t such a dick.

#

The Prince keeps Roy on his toes through the banquet, sending him for plate after plate of Xingese cuisine and bowls of sweet pear wine. Roy bites the inside of his cheeks to keep his expression blank as he weaves through courtiers and slaves. He’d rather be downstairs helping in the kitchens or tending to the slave baths. Anywhere but here. At least he’s not dolled up like an untouched bed slave on their first night, painted and jeweled like an offering to the gods.

As he returns to the head table with a plate of honeyed fruits, someone catches his elbow and tugs him sideways. He stumbles and lands in the guest’s lap, just barely keeping the plate upright. Flushing, he ducks his head to apologizes, and despite the Xingese robes in red, black, and gold, Roy knows that smirk. The Prince. 

“My apologies, Your Highness,” Roy says around his thick tongue, gulping as he moves to stand.

The Prince’s hands curl around his waist, his grip firm and rougher than Roy would expect from royalty. Roy’s heart hammers against the base of his throat. He’s painfully aware of his position, of the steady grip pinning his hips in place, of the lazy way the Prince pushes his thighs apart, of the warmth radiating from the Prince’s groin. His blood pulses.

“Oops,” the Prince says smugly. “You should watch where you’re going next time.”

Oh, Roy would happily point out that it’s the Prince’s fault he’s in this predicament, but he knows better than to make that kind of comment to his superiors. He tucks his head to his chest, offering the plate of honeyed fruits. “If I may, Your Highness?”

The Prince nods. “Just don’t shove fruit up my nose or anything.”

He briefly contemplates flipping the plate in the Prince’s pretty face and letting all that fruit and honey drip down his neck and into his fine robes. The thought brings a smile to his face as he picks up a piece of fruit and holds it out to the Prince.

Not batting an eye, the Prince leans closer and takes the fruit between his teeth. Roy does his best to maintain his position, but he’s never been called to serve in the banquet hall, among the indulgent upper classes. He can’t help how his gaze drifts to the delicate line of the Prince’s throat as he swallows. When he offers another piece of fruit, the Prince accepts, a knowing grin stretching his cheeks.

If all this attention focused on him makes something flare under his skin, well, Roy can keep that to himself.

#

As the welcoming banquet comes to an end—the Emperor and the Prince departing to share a drink in private, the courtiers drifting away once the royals have taken their leave—Roy makes his way to the Prince’s quarters. The servants have already lit the lamps and drawn back the bedclothes, so Roy is left to stand at the foot of the bed, his fingers twining together behind his back to stop him fidgeting. 

The fervor he felt under the Prince’s gaze has yet to abate. Warmth swells in his chest and colors his cheeks. When he ducks his head, he can already make out the line of his swelling cock through his slave’s silks. What must he look like, a dishonored bed slave preparing to serve a man ten years his junior, already flushed and eager like a fresh-faced youth. _What would Maes think if he saw me now?_ he thinks before he can stop himself, his chest aching.

The door sliding open snaps him from his thoughts. The Prince enters, pulls the door closed behind him, and leans back against the door frame. His eyes roam over Roy, heated and assessing. Roy’s pulse thunders in his ears. For a moment, stillness hangs between them, falling heavy on Roy’s shoulders. He lets his gaze drop back to the floor and fights through the urge to squirm.

Whisper-light footsteps break the silence as the Prince crosses the room, the tips of his slippers appearing at the edge of Roy’s vision. He doesn’t move; not until he’s bidden.

“Wow, they really train that “seen but not heard” mentality into you,” the Prince comments idly. “Color me impressed.”

Even if it’s casual and almost contemptuous, a grin flickers at the corner of Roy’s mouth. He learned a long time ago to take compliments wherever he can get them.

“Come here,” the Prince says quickly as he toes off his slippers. “Get me out of all this.”

Without a word, Roy steps forward. The Prince has been clothed in traditional Xingese robes, layer upon layer of silk gifted to him upon his arrival. Most foreigners look out of place in these clothes, but the Prince wears them well. But the contract between all the Prince’s layers and his own thin slave silks make heat rise in his chest. He steps closer and begins unlacing the outermost ties, pointedly ignoring his shaking hands. He has a job to do; nervous energy won’t help.

As he slips each layer free, Roy feels those dark eyes following his every motion. “What’s your name?” The Prince asks.

He flinches minutely, swallowing hard to recover his voice. “Roy, Your Highness.”

“Roy,” he says quietly, gently, “you’ve never done this before, have you?”

_Hands cup his ass. Lips tease along his throat. He moans into every touch, his hands sliding under another slave’s silks, reaching, reaching. “Maes.” But his words are too loud, and moments later there’s commotion in the dormitories, the palace guards yanking him and his partner apart._

Throat constricting, Roy jerks back, his jaw slack and his cheeks flushed at the Prince’s blunt observation. He ducks his head before moving back to the Prince’s garb. “No, Your Highness,” he whispers, his voice wavering under the weight of his words. “I’ve assisted in bed slave training. I’m familiar with the act, but I’ve never…” He trails off, his chin tucking tighter to his chest. “I’ve never served outside a demonstration.”

“Huh,” the Prince mutters, his tone unreadable.

Roy swallows his discomfort and musters his voice. “I apologize if that displeases you, Your Highness. I can send for another if you’d prefer.”

There’s a brief pause before the Prince replies. “Why should that matter? I picked you, didn’t I?”

“In Xing, it is customary to honor guests with the best the household has to offer, namely untouched bed slaves. To offer you anything less would dishonor both Your Highness and His Eminence, the Emperor. And to my knowledge, no foreign dignitary has ever turned down one of the untouched in favor of…” He can’t bring himself to finish the though.

“Oh really?” the Prince says, forcing a chuckle. “And how do I know one of the untouched is the best if they’ve never spread for anyone?”

His cheeks burn, his mouth falling open. “But wouldn’t Your Highness prefer someone truly unspoiled to mold as you please?”

For a moment, Roy worries he’s overstepped his bounds. Then the Prince snorts and closes the distance between them, close enough Roy can smell the spice lingering on his skin. A firm hand slides into his hair. Up close, the Prince’s eyes are dilated, the corner of his mouth sloping upward. “Nah, that sounds like too much work. I’d rather see what you can do.”

Roy’s heart speeds in his chest. Before he can react, he’s tugged down into the Prince’s kiss. Lips move against his, strong and insistent. He gasps at the sudden sensation before closing his eyes and following the Prince’s lead. 

At first, he tries to remember his lessons and keep himself soft and yielding. But quickly, the Prince growls into his mouth and yanks his hair, hard. Roy jolts, catching the Prince’s lower lip between his teeth. His eyes widen at his misstep, but the Prince only moans and holds firm, tugging Roy closer and grinding into him.

 _…so the Prince of Xerxes likes a touch of pain with his pleasure?_ Taking that into account, Roy leans back into the kiss and nibbles at the Prince’s lip before laving away the pain. The Prince melts into him, his groin pulsing hot despite the thin fabric separating them. Roy has to swallow hard to keep himself in check.

Only when they’re both short on breath does the Prince pull away. Roy draws quick little breathes, light headed and ready to lean back into the Prince’s space. But the hand in his hair tethers him in place. Makes him wait for it. God, what he wouldn’t give to strip those last layers off the Prince’s body, baring him entirely. Even if the Prince is a dick, Roy would have to be blind and dumb to call him unattractive.

The Prince ruffles his hand through Roy’s hair, playing with the short strands at the nape of his neck. He presses back into the touch, subtly baring his throat. Idly, he considers the Prince craning onto his tiptoes and sucking a mark into his skin. He shivers at the thought, his gut clenching.

“Not too shabby,” the Prince says, still slightly breathless. He steps forward into Roy’s space, his free hand toying with the deep neckline of Roy’s slave silks. “These tie on like mine?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

But when he reaches for the ties, the hand in his hair fists tight. Roy freezes, anticipating a blow, but the Prince doesn’t look displeased. Not if his smirk is anything to go by.

“I didn’t tell you disrobe, now did I?”

Roy’s brow quirks at the teasing tone. It’s rare, refreshing, to be treated like a human being instead of a possession. Fighting a genuine smile, he drops his eyes to the floor. “My apologies, Your Highness.”

“Edward,” the Prince corrects calmly. “All this ‘Your Highness’ talk keeps making me think of Al, and I don’t want my little brother floating around my head right now.”

Roy nods. “Yes, Edward.”

“Good.” 

Without another word, Edward releases Roy’s hair and reaches down for the ties at his waist. Edward’s nimble fingers work the laces until the silks hang limp on Roy’s shoulders; they’ll stay put so long as he doesn’t move. Roy bites his lip and wills himself to stay still. But then Edward’s hands slide under the loose fabric. Calloused fingers map the lines of his chest as dark determined eyes catalog every place that makes his breath hitch or his throat bob. Roy would be ashamed with his eagerness if it didn’t feel so good.

Another quick tug of his hair pulls Roy out of his thoughts. Grinning, Edward pets him briefly. “Very good. Let’s see what else your mouth can do. On your knees.”

Want thick in his throat, Roy drops to his knees so fast the hand in his hair gets left behind. His silks spill from his shoulders and pool around his waist. Stumbling forward on his knees, he settles between Edward’s spread legs and looks up just in time to see Edward shrug off the last of his garments. And he can’t stop his eyes drifting up the planes of lean muscle, the scars bright against his skin, all the way up to Edward’s every-present smirk. If he’d had any reservations about the Prince of Xerxes’s reputation as a fighter, they’re obliterated at the sight of him. 

“Eager, huh?”

Flushing, Roy huffs. “I have no idea what gave you that idea.”

Chuckling, Edward cups the back of his head, kneading and gentling him closer. “Just your mouth.”

Lips parted, he leans in and sucks Edward’s dick into his mouth.

He’s not sure what he expected, perhaps a tang to the skin or a musky smell. He practiced this skill during his training and later demonstrated for each new batch of bed slaves the Emperor procured; the artificial phalluses were rigid and unnatural and made him feel like he was playacting during those sessions, but they were superior to getting his throat fucked by the slave trainers. But Edward is warm between his lips, warm and smooth and pulsing. 

Roy pushes up onto his knees without hesitation, taking in Edward’s cock until the head hits the back of his throat and Edward’s hand fists in his hair. Glancing up through his eyelashes, he gets an eyeful: rippling abdominals, golden hair spilling over his shoulders, his mouth tipped open. Roy groans at the sight, preening when he tastes a salty burst of precome. 

He tilts his head back farther, opens his throat, and swallows. And as Edward throws his head back and moans, Roy thanks every god in the heavens for his lack of gag reflex. Especially when Edward’s hips thrust forward instinctively, fucking into his mouth. But unlike his previous oral encounters, heat wells in his groin, his untouched cock swelling beneath the folds of his slave silks. He fists his hands against his thighs, working diligently in opposition to Edward’s thrusts, sucking and laving in quick succession. Every breathy moan he earns is exquisite. If those were the last sounds he heard, he would die a happy man.

Just as Roy starts to lose himself in the rhythm and the feeling, Edward pulls him away, bowing forward and bracing his free hand on Roy’s shoulder. His breath puffs heavily against Roy’s shoulder as he strains to calm himself. Before he can think better of it, Roy lifts his hands to Edward’s thighs, rubbing slowly up and down his flanks. 

Red faced and tense with want, Edward is a wonder to behold, all his regalness stripped away and leaving in its wake only a man. Roy can’t stop himself from staring even if he knows he should turn away and allow Edward a moment of privacy to recover. He leans forward and and drops gentle kisses along Edward’s stomach. It’s the sort of forward behavior Fu would have a heart attack to witness, but Edward hums contentedly and pets the base of his skull appreciatively.

“I gotta lie down,” Edward mutters, still breathing hard. He pulls away and crosses to the bed, leaving Roy kneeling on the floor. When Edward plops down amongst the pillows, he arches a brow at Roy. “You coming or what?”

Again with that tone. If he were still a young bed slave, he’d scramble to his feet and race after. Other masters would expect it. But Edward isn’t like the men and women Roy was trained to please; he’s unpredictable in the best way. Spontaneous and quick-witted and more perceptive than he has any right to be. So Roy plays a hunch and drops forward onto his hands and knees, crawling across the floor and letting his slave silks slip to the floor in his wake. He holds eye contact the entire way, his cock spasming when Edward’s eyes turn dark and his mouth hangs open. Just this once, he gives himself leave to smirk knowingly.

And when he reaches the edge of the bed and climbs onto the sheets, Edward is on him in an instant, his lips hot and his hands ever moving as he drags Roy into his lap and squeezes his ass. Roy lets out a soft moan, glancing down at his pale nakedness pressed close to Edward’s, flushed and dripping and eager. _What a pair we make,_ he thinks idly before forcing the thought aside. He’s nothing to a crowned prince, just a bed slave.

Steeling himself, Roy leans toward the bedside table and retrieved as vial of oil, his hands numb but blessedly steady. He can feel Edward’s gaze on him, lips trailing up the column of his neck, the threat of teeth sending a shiver though him. Despite his burning cheeks, Roy grins knowingly and asks, “Would you like to prepare me, or shall I?”

For a split second, Edward groans into the crook of Roy’s neck, his hands tightening around Roy’s hips. When he looks up, possessiveness flickers across Edward’s face. Pleased with himself, Roy grins.

And in another instant, Edward schools his expression into something more blase and lays back against the pillows. “Yeah, I could go for a show.”

Roy’s face falters. “A show?”

“Yeah, y’know, seduce me.”

Brow quirked, Roy glances down at Edward’s erection. In response, Edward palms himself, his strokes long and lazy stroke. Roy can’t help following the motions, his own dick perking up. Christ, how did it come to this?

Rising to the challenge, Roy shuffles backwards out of Edward’s lap, turning between Edward’s splayed legs so he’s facing the foot of the bed. He breathes slow and deep, willing away his tension just the way he was trained. 

The sensation of teasing fingers at his rim is familiar from his demonstrations for the in-training bed slaves. With oiled fingertips, he circles his furl, spreading his cheeks with his other hand. It’s an unnatural angle, canting his hips just so, arching back to reach himself. He feels the line of tension running from his shoulder’s to his thighs, precariously balanced and ready to snap. 

“Have you ever fingered yourself before?”

“Not in this context,” Roy replies, remembering hastily oiling and stretching himself before demonstrations, every motion clinical. He shakes his head. “An proper bed slave would never dream of such a thing before their first night.”

“God, you weren’t joking about your culture valuing the unspoiled,” Edward comments, his voice both enraptured and peeved. But as Roy peeks over his shoulder to check if he’s alright, Edward continues, “Keep going slow. Don’t rush yourself, we have all night.”

“All night, you say,” Roy says skeptically. “You must think very highly of yourself.”

Edward sticks his tongue out. “Of course I do. I’ve been around enough to know my capabilities.”

Roy’s chest warms despite himself. His hole gives way, letting his finger sink in. His breath catches in his chest, and he snaps his head back forward. He hadn’t been expecting that. Still, progress. Soon it will be Edward sinking into him.

He continues at a slow, teasing pace, gentling himself open and relishing every small noise Edward lets out. By the time he works in a third finger, Edward groans behind him. “God, you look tight.”

A laugh startles out of his chest. “Not that tight,” he replied mildly. “After all, I’ve already got—”

“Oh I know exactly how many fingers you have spreading you,” Edward says, his words hungry. “But it looks like your ass doesn’t wanna let them go. Like each thrust is making you want it move.”

Roy’s mouth goes dry. His voice comes out thin and keening. “You sound like you speak from experience.”

Edward chuckles. “How else do you figure out what you like best? How can you know for sure if you don’t try everything?”

For a split second, an image flashes across his mind: Edward, younger, softer, locked away in a Xerxian palace, his legs spread impossibly wide as he works his fingers into himself, flushed cheeks to chest and arching into each unrelenting press. Roy’s hand goes still, his mouth dropping open at the wanton fantasy, but he snaps his mouth closed and redoubles his efforts. Better to lock away those kinds of thoughts and wants. 

Something warm covers his back. Roy startles at the sudden pressure—he hadn’t even noticed the bed shifting. But when he realizes it’s Edward draping himself over him, Roy arches into him, pushing his fingers deeper instinctively and scissoring them. He wants to hurry things along, to feel the warmth and weight pushing into him, joining them as one.

Edward wraps his arms around him, taking his weight and pressing close against him but not close enough. Roy feels the point of Edward’s chin press into his shoulder, breath warm against his ear. “Is there something you’d like to try, Roy?”

Roy goes stiff under him, desire flaring hot in his veins. His face must be bright red, but he prays the angles mask him from Edward’s sharp gaze. It was fun playing pretend, but Roy is no idiot; he knows what he is, who Edward is. What he does or doesn’t want doesn’t matter, only pleasing the Prince of Xerxes. _You won’t be disappointed if you don’t want anything._

Biting back his emotions, Roy turns sideways and steals a kiss from Edward. He sweeps his tongue along the seam of Edward’s lips, drinking in his moans. When they part, his face is a mask of teasing lust, keeping every other feeling at bay. “I’d like it if you quit talking and fucked me.”

Even as he blushes, Edward grins. “I guess I c— Woah!”

Before Edward finishes talking, Roy drops his chest to the bed and tilts up onto onto his knees. He slides his fingers out of his hole and grabs each cheek, holding himself spread open and waiting. Ready for the taking.

There’s a beat of silence, then another. All Roy can feel is the silken bedclothes against his chest and the dip where Edward’s knees are pressed into the bed. His heart hammers in his ears, bracing himself for the first thrust.

“Um, what are you doing?”

“Presenting myself,” Roy answers, because what else could he be doing in this position? Admiring the quality of the silk?

The silence stretches farther. The back of Roy’s neck prickles, but he holds himself still and waits. Waits for nails biting into his hips and rough thrusts and another body caging him in. But instead, he gets a gentle hand trailing up his side and a hot sweep of tongue from the base of his balls up to his hole. He chokes, burying his face in the bedclothes and biting hard. That was… not what he was expecting.

Edward laughs, the noise bright and unfettered before he hooks his hand around Roy’s hips, tilting his hips upward. Roy’s fingers clench around his cheeks in anticipation. “Keep those spread for me,” Edward says and then the sensation is back. Wet heat laving at him. Strong hands pinning him in place. Pleasure swelling in him, hot and needy and ready for more, more, _more._ And when Edward pushes his tongue past his furl, Roy keens into the bedding. His fingers clench against his ass, determined to ride out the feeling for as long as possible.

Only when one of Edward’s hands slides toward Roy’s dick does he turn his head to the side and whimpers, “Wait, please.”

Edward stills, pulling away and resting his chin on Roy’s tail bone. “What’s the matter? Too much for you?”

Roy can only pant. He squeezes his eyes shut, knowing he’s perilously close to shaking himself to pieces. It would be so much easier if he just say “yes” and moves on, or shut his damn mouth and let Edward keep teasing him. But Roy knows himself, knows that despite all the good things Edward makes him feel, he’s on the edge of panic. With other masters, he would bite his tongue and endure, but Edward is… Edward is different, and Roy can’t help his stupid hope that Edward cares. He has just enough evidence he’s willing to risk it. 

Eyes squeezed shut, Roy explains. “The last time someone touched me _there…_ We had just finished my training. My first night was days away, and my friend and I… We…” He trails off, wincing at the force of his memories. “The guards broke us up before we could even get our silks off, but that was enough to dishonor us both.”

When Edward doesn’t respond, he curses himself. He shouldn’t have brought it up. Should have just swallowed his guilt and let Edward have his fun. Should have grit his teeth and bared it. Should have… should have…

He startles when lips press to the small of his back, when Edward’s hands retreat back to his hips, squeezing for just a moment before pulling away. Roy barely contains his whine, but it’s not his place to protest. Thankfully, the only witness is the bedclothes.

“Come here.”

It takes a moment for the words to register, even longer for his hands to uncurl from his ass and for him to push himself upright. He casts a cautious glance over his shoulder, spies Edward sprawled on the bed, supine with his cock standing proud. But his gaze is softer, even if he’s still smirking as he pats his lap with one hand and oils his cock with the other. “I wanna watch you ride me.”

Roy crosses the mattress, carefully straddling Edward’s hips, sighing at the warm flesh pressed against his ass. He’s seen women train for this position, visions from the front or behind, but male bed slaves are trained to be bent over the nearest flat surface and mounted. But Edward is, allegedly, experienced enough to know what he likes. Roy just hopes he doesn’t disappoint.

And slowly, carefully, Roy shuffles backward, aligns Edwards cock, and sinks onto it. He opens instinctively, letting inch after luscious inch slide inside him. He sighs, relishing the stretch. But midway down, Edward touches something deep inside him. Pleasure lights up his spine, and his hips stutter. His eyes flash open as he seats himself fully on Edward, panting to reclaim some semblance of self control. He’s caught flickers of this feeling before, the occasional burst of pleasure during demonstrations, but never on the first thrust. 

Edward rubs a hand along his flank, gentler than anything Roy has experienced before tonight. Exhaling slowly, Edward grins up at him, focus knitting his brow. “Fuck, you’re even tighter than you look.”

Roy bucks despite himself, and Edward’s cock grinds into his prostate again. He lets out a high pitched sound, painfully needy to his own ears. But that doesn’t stop him rising onto his knees and bouncing quick and fast, gasping at the sensation again. On its own, the deep-seated pleasure is delightful, but paired with the drag and stretch against his rim, it’s breathe taking. 

“Fuck,” Edward laughs, his hands tightening on Roy’s hips. “You sure you’ve never done this before?”

In lieu of answering, Roy clenches around him, his gut spasming at Edward’s heady groan. If Edward didn’t make such a lovely picture—red-faced and cursing quietly and clinging so tightly—Roy would curl down against his chest, hide his face in the crook of Edward’s neck, and grind against him. If Roy had leave to be selfish, he’d spill himself across Edward’s chest, scoop up his seed, and feed it to him. But Edward wanted to watch him ride, and Roy will make damn sure Edward gets the show of a lifetime. 

Bracing his hands against Edward’s thighs, Roy arches his back and rides. Up and down at a steady pace, clenching his hole at odd intervals when he wants to hear Edward moan. Edward’s hand trail up over his chest, thumbing his nipples. Groaning, Roy rakes his nails up Edward’s thighs, soaking in the keening noises Edward makes. Roy can’t take his eyes off him. Can’t help grinding down until Edward bows up against him, cursing.

His gut tenses, his cock bobs, and before Roy can even consider pulling back from the edge, he comes, spurt after spurt tearing out of him. He bows forward at the force of it, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. Fuck, he came. He wasn’t supposed to do that, not if he wasn’t told to. 

Before his pulse even settles, Edward growls. His hands clamp around Roy’s hips, holding him in position as he thrusts into him. Roy gasps. Too much after his climax, but for the life of him, he doesn’t ask Edward to stop. It’s too good. Painfully pleasurable. More than he can bear. But Edward’s hips move with a fury, taking everything Roy has to offer and more, and Roy clings to him through the white hot pleasure. 

“Fuck, Roy,” Edward pants as he works himself into a frenzy. “Don’t wanna stop. Don’t ever wanna stop. You feels so good. Better than I ever dreamed.”

Roy drops to his chest, his hands grappling for purchase. “Don’t stop. Please, Edward. Don’t stop.”

Edward leans in and latches onto his neck, sucking hard and grazing Roy with his teeth.

Roy gasps, pleasure cresting in him again. He grinds down against Edward, clenching in time with each thrust and digging his nails into his shoulders. He whispers, “Come with me.” 

Edward jerks, driving into him hard and fast, shouting as he pulls Roy down against him. He lets out another high pitched grunt, and second later, Roy feels the cock in him twitch and pulse against his prostate, spilling warmth into him. His eyes roll back into his head as he follows.

For a few moments, Roy pants against Edward’s neck, mouthing at his pulse point because he doesn’t have the mental capacity to press actual kisses to his skin. He feels Edward’s chest rumble with a tired laugh as he strokes his hand up and down his spine. On the upstroke, Edward threads his fingers into Roy’s hair, petting him. Roy practically purrs. 

In a perfect world, he’d be free to linger here and enjoy the simple comfort and afterglow. He would be free to lay here and listen to Edward’s heart beating under his cheek. To rest and enjoy and relish the man under him as they fall asleep in each other’s arms.

But he’s a bed slave. An attendant. There are more important matters than what he wants.

Without a word, Roy clambers out of Edward’s arms, his limbs loose and uncoordinated as he slips off the bed. He stumbles to the wash stand, his thighs trembling. Head bowed, he dampens a cloth and goes to carefully clean Edward, wiping away sweat and oil and spend in delicate, smooth motions. Edward’s eyes linger on him, but he can’t bring himself to look up. Not yet. Not now. 

Once Edward is clean, he returns to the wash stand, painfully aware of dampness dripping down his thighs. Cheeks flushed, he mops up his mess, wincing as his muscles protest. He exhales slowly, determinedly not looking at himself in the mirror over the wash stand.

When warm fingers slide around his waist, Roy jolts. Edward kisses along the line of his shoulders, taking a deep breath at the nape of his neck. Roy’s heart twists tight in his chest. “Is there anything else you require?” he asks quietly, cautiously. He’s really not sure what else he can take.

“Come back to bed,” Edward whispers against his skin. “You owe me a cuddle.”

Despite himself, Roy laughs. He turns in Edward’s arms, drawing up to his full height. Edward tilts his head back to keep his lidded eyes on Roy, pursing his lips at their difference in height. Roy can’t bite back his grin. He’s too exhausted to be anything else. “Oh, I owe you, do I?”

Edward yawns, talking through it. “Damn right you do.”

And before Roy can make another token protest, Edward pulls him back to the bed, positioning Roy in the middle of the bed before curling up against his side with a leg and arm draped over him. Roy gazes down at Edward, his heart caught in his throat. It’s too good to be real, but he can’t bring himself to question it. Instead, he asks, “Comfortable?”

“Extremely.” To prove his point, Edward presses himself tighter to Roy’s side. “I’m not the one sleeping in the wet spot.”

Roy knows he should laugh at the jab, should accept Edward trying to lighten the mood and embrace a return to normalcy. Instead, he wraps his arm around Edward and holds him back. He knows this won’t last—he knows his position, and Edward’s, and all the expectations surrounding them—but for better or worse, he will make the most of the next three weeks. And if his heart shatters when Edward inevitably returns to his home country and he’s sent back to the slave quarters, so be it. He knows how to put himself back together.

**Author's Note:**

> Questions, comments, and concrit welcome! Come scream with me on Tumblr (birdsbeesandlemonadetrees.tumblr.com)


End file.
